


Baby (you can drive my car)

by Little_Firestar84



Series: Hitter & Chemist [6]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Between Episodes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, One Shot, au-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/pseuds/Little_Firestar84
Summary: The First thing Becks fell in love with was his car.The second was his voice- and his hands.Even if she hated how he treated her like a child.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker, Eliot Spencer/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Hitter & Chemist [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911169
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Baby (you can drive my car)

**Author's Note:**

> Snippets of life set from Becks' admission into the Leverage team, as hinted into the first part of "The wedding date job", with little pieces building into that story and into the other set into the same series.  
> (Mostly, thogh, I wanted to write about Eliot's car- and whover asked me about Eliot's mom... I'm writing about it. sooner or later, you'll get it.I promise.)

“All right. We may have a slightly little problem. So, change of plans.” Nate tried to smile as he clapped his hands, when he presented the latest development in their attempts at catching Ethan Pryce, a ruthless industrialist who had worked a small community to the bone just to jump shim when it had turned out that his company was poisoning the watercourse of the small town just out of Baltimore. 

“Why, what did you do?” Parker asked him, eyeing him dangerously- like she was actually _judging_ him. 

“Why do you.. I haven’t done anything!” He grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Pryce likes to collect works of art, _and_ Albert Cummings is after said collection, which means that if we don’t want to go against one of the greatest grifters of this generation, we’ll have to… adjust our plan a little.”

“How do you know Cummings is after him?” Sophie asked him. She had worked for the man in one or two occasions, but she had never met him face to face; it was how he worked. Everybody knew his name, but no one had ever seen his face. Some people even thought he was just a myth- maybe the identity of some collective. Not her: his plans were just too well-crafted to be the work of more than one mind. “Nobody knows what he looks like. I worked for him and _I_ don’t know what he looks like. Even his voice, I just heard it through the phone and it was distorted.”

“Matter of fact, his usual crew _knows_ what he looks like. Especially his kids: Albert is famous for working with Amanda, a con-artist, and Rebecca. You may have heard of her as the Chemist, forger, make-up artist, expert in drugs and toxins. And _she_ will be our way in. Cummings doesn’t care about the money, he just wants the art collection to sell it on the black market. Rebecca is going to make sure that we’ll both get what we want.”

“You want to con the daughter of one of the greatest con artists around?” Hardison chuckled, wondering if Nate had finally snapped and gone crazy, because that was exactly what it looked like. 

“Con?” He snickered. “No, no, we aren’t going to con her. She’ll join us for this job. Here Matter of fact, she is supposed to drop by this afternoon.”

“I really hate to annoy you, but, first, why would the chemist help us out, second, do you think it’s smart? She may discover what we really do- that we _help_ people out.”

“Hardison is right,” Eliot deadpanned. “She is a liability. Either we find a way to con Pryce first, or we make sure that the people of Shellock Grove get justice some other way.”

“Actually, we don’t need to worry about her discovering out little dirty secret,” Nate cleared his voice, swallowing, unable to meet the eyes of his team, feeling the weight of what he was about to say. Knowing all too well what each and every one of them would have said. “She already knows. Not that I told her, mind you. She, got it. On her own.” He cleared his voice yet again. “She is pretty smart. Hence her nickname.”

Eliot grunted something under his breath, shaking his head slightly; he didn’t like the idea of a stranger joining them, risking their identities and their home, and he even liked less the idea of having yet another egghead to look after- _and_ of having someone who would definitely join sides with Hardison. 

Besides, she was Cunnings’ daughter, and Albert Cunnings wasn’t what people would define a good and decent human being- word of the mouth was he was barely a human being to begin with.

“Nathan, you know that I have your back no matter what, that’s my job and I’m fine with it, but, are you absolutely sure about this?” Eliot asked him again, eyes in the eyes. 

“Yes,” he answered, as sure as he had been of few other things in his life. “I have a gut feeling that I can trust her. And I ask you to trust _me_ on this.”

Eliot nodded, hoping that Nate knew what he had just gotten themselves into. 

_/\\_

Of all the things he owned, the only one Eliot truly and utterly loved was his car. His Dodge was his treasure, and no one was allowed to touch it- not even all the pretty girls he liked to hang around with, and especially not people he didn’t know.

“Do you mind?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow, as he cleared his voice a little. The girl who was, mesmerized, skimming over the red-orange paint of his beloved jumped, shirking a little, paling. She jerked around, one hand over her heart, and swallowed as she faced him. “C’mon, kiddo, I don’t bite.”

Calling her kiddo had come as second nature, as it was an innate instinct; she looked more or less like a teenager., with the ripped burgundy jeans, the black and white Vans and an orange oversized jumper, and the short, messy red hair with the orange highlights. 

Also, she was still touching his car. Which he really didn’t appreciate. At all. 

“That’s an SRT-8 from 2008, right?” She asked, a bit shy, as she bit down on her lip, trying to see in the car past the dark glasses. “What kind of horsepower does it have, 381? It’s pretty impressive. Also, one of a kind- you really don’t see a lot of these beauties running around.” 

“Yeah…” Eliot grunted, as he retrieved from his jeans a piece of cloth which he used to clean off her imprints from the car, hoping that she would get the message and leave him alone and in peace. “It’s a gift from a friend who owed me a couple of favors.”

“Must have been quite the favors, then. Because my friends barely house-sit for me when they have to pay me back, and most of the time they let my plants die anyway, so…” With her arms crossed, she leaned against the car. She wasn’t taking her eyes off of him, and neither from the car- honestly, she didn’t know what sight she was supposed to enjoy more, if the car or its owner. “Ever tried an Hellcat? I once rode it on the track. She had an horsepower of over seven hundreds thanks to a volumetric compressor, went from zero to one hundred in less than two seconds. It was pure sin the way she roared. Although, even an RT from 1973 would be nice. Their aerodynamic line lends itself to high speed, and anyway 425 horsepower is not bad to begin with.”

Eliot smirked as he gazed in her eyes. If she hadn’t looked so damn young, and didn’t have a feminine bone in her whole body, she would have been perfect for him: as far as he was concerned, women and engines were a perfect combination. 

“You don’t see a lot of girls who know their engines….” He said, chuckling, but she burst out laughing. “Did I say something funny?”

“Sorry, not really, it’s just that, it’s weird when people calls me a girl,” she chuckled. “I’ll let you know that I’m almost thirty.”

“Would have never guessed. You really look like a kid.” She wasn’t sure exactly why, but, said by him, it sounded almost like an insult. He made her steam with anger; he had been condescending, had basically just told her she was just a little girl with ho attractions whatsoever- certainly not a sexy siren to take to his bed.

_ Men,  _ she huffed, rolling her eyes, and yet she blushed a little, and cursed herself because she couldn’t help but find him extremely handsome- _extremely sexy, very hot_ , if she had to be completely honest with herself – with the way he looked rough around the edges, the deep voice, the bluest eyes she had ever seen on a man and that scar on top of lip, barely hidden by his stubble. _And_ she didn’t even wanted to start with that hair. She had never been a fan of men with long hair, and yet, his dark mane of shoulder-length hair, tied up in a tail,was just _sinful_.

Meanwhile, he had pulled open the hood of the car, and had started checking the engine, with careful and studied movements. She had stopped behind him, and noticed for the first time his hands- they were rough, strong, muscular and callous, hands of a working man, of a fighter, and yet, the way he moved them, it was somehow…. Elegant and graceful. 

She smiled. He was a living contradiction- a living contradiction with a discreet ass.

“Kiddo, are you done staring at me?” He grunted at her, without lifting his head from the engine. “Don’t you have, like, a life of your own? An home, family, a job to get back to?”

“Actually, daddy moved a lot when we were growing up, so I don’t have a proper home to begin with.” She casually leaned against the side of the car, drumming with her fingers against the just polished body.“And, for work… I’m working here.”

Eliot lifted an eyebrow. Apparently, Cora had been hiring new people- she hadn’t told him there was going to be a new waitress in town. For sure, she hadn’t been working at McRory’s before, as he intimately knew all the girls working there, and he would have noticed one barely looking legal.

“Oh, Eliot, here you are!” Eliot saw Nate approach him, with spring in his steps and a too enthusiastic grin plastered to his face. He chuckled in the direction of the girl with the pixie hairdo, and clapped his hands together in his usual way. “Oh, good, I see you’ve already met. One less thing to do for me!”

“So, it’s you… Nate was just talking about you…” Eliot chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest, showing a pair of impressive biceps. “So, you’d be the Chemist, the elusive genius who forged a Van Gogh using a peculiar yellow pigment with an high molecular instability and photosensitive to make it look authentic. Screwing the expert.”

She gleamed with pride, and wrinkled her nose. “I _did_ create the pigment, actually, and besides, I only fooled the expert because he just did a preliminary examination- as good as I am, it wouldn’t have passed a carbon test.”

“And, out of curiosity, how would you know that we…” He merely gesticulated with his hands, not finishing the sentence, not wanting to give her further ammo, something to work with and on. 

“Oh, you mean that you are not actually bad guys? That you steal only to bad people to help good people in dire need of justice?” She snickered. “World’s not so big after all, and people talks. Especially if they think you are some sorry geek who spends her time hurled in a cave without talking with anyone. Also,” She made a face, as to make fun of him. “I happen to be smart, as you may have noticed.”

“All right, if you are done making friends,” Nathan cleared his voice, bringing the duo back to reality, out of the small bubble they had immersed themselves in while bickering, stopping Eliot from saying something- anything, actually- that would hurt the plan. “Let’s not waste any time and let’s go, we still have a lot of things to think about!” 

As she followed Nathan inside McRory’s, with a smile on her lips, Eliot couldn’t take his eyes of her. He shook his head, feeling that she would have stuck around for a long time to come.

_/\\_

“Why are you helping us out?” Parker asked her one evening as she was looking at surveillance videos, trying to see where and when her dad’s people would be showing up. “I don’t really know a lot about real families, but I think that I wouldn’t betray my dad. Even if we are great, if I can say so myself.”

Becks closed the laptop and took a big breath, looking a bit sad, a bit lost. “He’s being mean, and a bully. And these people, they need _help,_ and he wants to take advantage of the situation. It’s wrong, and I don’t want to have anything to do with any of this.” 

Parker stared at her, serious and concentrated. “I think,” she said “that you may be the most honest thief I have ever met in my whole life. And I’ve met all kinds of people.”

_/\\_

“I can’t believe you’d…. betray me for…. For _these_ …. Sorry excuses of thieves!” Albert was as red as a tomato, he was fuming, he was barely controlling himself as he faced his own daughter, knowing that she had helped “the enemy” and made sure he lost the money he was after. Yes, he had still gotten the art, but he would have preferred to have it all. 

And yet, here he was, feeling like he had been cheated, by his own blood.

“Dad, it was wrong,” she underlined the word, almost spitting it. “We are not crooks. We don’t take advantage of the desperate. Those people had lost everything. They deserved some kind of compensation.”

“And did it really have to come at my expense?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed. “Listen, you can get my cut of the deal, all right? I don’t want any of it. It’s all yours, just, drop it, will you? And calm the hell down. It’s not healthy.”

She was right, Nathan mused. Albert wasn’t young, by any means. He was well in his sixties, probably closer to seventy, with a perennial smirk and an head full of white hair. He was charming- and yet, he was the kind of man who looked scary and intimidating when hit by anger. 

Not that he was having any effect on his daughter, though. 

“Of course I’m taking your cut!” he hissed between clenched teeth, staying barely inches from her face. “Because you are done with us.”

“What?” She swallowed, her eyes as huge as saucers, wide open. “C’mon dad, you can’t be serious!”

“Oh, yes, I can and I am. You, young lady, are done with us.” He looked at Nathan, and chuckled, darkly, venomous. “It looks like you’ve already found another crew anyway.”

As he turned his back on her, Rebecca stood there, speechless, refusing to give up, to show him how much he had just hurt her, how he had crushed her heart in a million little pieces.

_/\\_

“Weren’t you with… what was her name again? Nurse Gail?” 

As he was opening the cooler to get some ice for his hurting hand, Eliot was surprised by the presence of Becks, she was in the living room, curled on the couch, reading a book. 

He wasn’t expecting her there; although they had been all crushing at Nate’s lately, Becks had been the one with a steady cover job and a place of her own, although he had never been there. so, it was weird she was there, especially since they weren’t working a job any longer.

“What are you doing still here?” he asked with a smirk, as he collapsed on the opposite side of the couch, the ice on his hand, massaging it. 

“I burned my apartment. Not literally, although it once happened, as in, it’s not safe any longer. People from my old life finding out about it. My sister. Which also means, dad. And his crew. And I’m so not ready to face them again. So, I’m crushing here, in Nate’s guestroom.”

“You haven’t forgiven him yet?” he asked her, as Becks took his hand between hers and carefully studied the wound. She didn’t answer, but went back into the kitchen, where she retrieved two plastic boxes, one from the fridge and another from a drawer. She put a piece of cloth on the coffee table, and then sat on it, facing Eliot, taking his hand between hers once again. 

“You’d need an hospital, but, as you don’t want to go… the mountain will have to come to you.”She injected something in the wound, making him cringe, and she looked positively sorry. She was calm and controlled, so sure of herself. And somehow… sweet. “Relax, I know what I’m doing- that’s not my first rodeo sewing a wound.”

“A chemist _and_ a doctor, uh? And you know your way around an engine. A woman to marry.” She snickered, blushing like a schoolgirl. She lifted her eyes, daring to meet his, and she swallowed. She had always thought that the eyes- and his hands- were Eliot’s most expressive trait, and she still though so. Now, though, she asked herself what she was supposed to read there; what was Eliot implying? That he didn’t see her as a kid any longer? That he had finally decided that she was, somehow, appealing? God, she hoped so- she had had a crush on him for the longest time- love at first sight, Tara and Sophie had once joked – and so, to finally live this love, it would have been a dream come true.

“Of course, you don’t have a feminine bone in your body, but I think there may be someone out there who could go for the whole nerdy mechanic thing.” He snickered, and her world came crushing down, with the realization he hadn’t bene talking about, well, himself, but just some imaginary loser. 

“Yeah, you are probably right.” She agreed as she started working on the wound, closing the gap with small stitches. “Here. It should be done. I’ll check on them tomorrow, but I think I’ll be able to take them off in maximum five days. Just be careful with what you punches until them- wounds get nasty when they reopen.”

She stood, and got closer to him, but then, she bit her lips and cleared her voice. “Good night,” she just said, as she left him alone in the living room. 

_/\\_

They had worked a case together- The Leverage Inc. and their father’s crew- and now they were all celebrating at the brewpub. And, finally, they had made peace. Albert was ready to welcome his daughter back into his welcoming open arms- in his life, as she had explained that she had found her calling, and her place wasn’t at his side any longer- he was already working with a daughter who would have continued the family business once he decided he was ready to retire.

Eliot had finally met the notorious Albert, but, above all, the ever-present sister, Madeline, who had given him the “seal of approval”- or her version of it anyway, as she had defined him as _kind of rough around the edges, but he seems kind of protective, you know? And he has one damn sexy smirk…_

“You know, you don’t look like twins.” Parker simply said, looking at the girls drinking, sat next to each other. “As in, at all. Madeline’s even taller. Not that it really counts- Becks is even shorter than Eliot.”

Madeline looked in the distance at said man, busy talking with “their” hitter and part-time grifter, Danny. She was actually licking her lips, making her sister giggle. “I don’t know. I think he may be the perfect high.”

“ For what? Steal?” Parker inquired, oblivious, as Hardison shook his head in disbelief, and the Cunnings girls burst out laughing- just before Madeline lifted her eyebrow and chuckled, and joined Eliot at the counter, where he was busy putting together some of his kickshaws, and they immediately hit it off, star ting chit-chatting and laughing like they were old friends. 

At first, Becks had believed that Madeline had just wanted to check him out for her- she hadn’t been shy about telling her that there was this guy she was interested in “at work”, and the he seemed to be sending her mixed signals- like saying he wasn’t interested in nerdy girls, but always showing up whenever she was alone and needed company - but then Becks saw how _Eliot_ was looking at Madeline- the same way he had been looking at pretty much every other woman (except herself) since they had met each other. 

He was eating her up, shamelessly- and why wouldn’t he? Maddie had it all- style, a bubbling personality, she was gracious like a swan,she was tall, slender, with blue eyes and perfect natural blonde hair, the amazing skin- in short, a body to die for. Men loved her, men wanted her- man barely acknowledged Becks, and threated her like a little mouse, like… well, _a pet_. 

Rather than look at the couple flirt right before her eyes, Becks found an excuse and went back home, where she rather took her anger out on a drink of vodka, looking at silly comedies she hated with a passion curled up on her couch, not wanting to know where Maddie would have spent the night. 

(The next morning, as they were having breakfast together at a café, she got her answers. Maddie was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, with just an exception, her top. She was wearing a t-shirt that looked a lot like one Eliot had.)

_/\\_

“Becks!” She heard Hardison calling her name, and she left her place behind the counter, where she was helping out the waitress, and joined them in the back, where they used to have their meetings. She had been “alone” at the brewery- and by that she meant the only thief – as, while Becks had helped her father run an con from the shadows, Sophie and Nate were busy with a stolen painting (although in truth they were acting like lovebirds on their honeymoon) and the Original trio had headed to Washington to help an old friend of Eliot, some military guy by the name Vance. 

And now, they were back. Or, at least, Parker and Hardison were.

“What’s going on?” She asked them, a bit worried, eyeing them suspiciously. Hardison was staying before the meeting room table with his arms crossed, looking worried, while Parker stood at his side, next to him, and kept rolling on her heels, biting her lips- looking guilty. “So? What happened? Where’s Eliot?”

She had barely said the sentence when she heard a chocked moan, and, as on cue, both Hardison and Parker stepped aside, revealing that behind them, laying on the table, half unconscious, there was just him, bloodied and with his body covered with bandages. 

He didn’t look good. Not at all. 

“What the…” She hurried at his side, and quickly inspected the wounds, but he was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing when he had gotten injured, so she wasn’t too sure – of anything. She swallowed hard, and regained her composure, and control of the situation. “Hardison, get me some scissors, we need to cut his clothes. Parker, in the fridge there’s a metal box with my name on it and a padlock. I need it now.”

“He got shot in the shoulder _and_ stabbed in the leg.” Hardison looked worried as he handled her a pair of scissors, he swallowed as she tore the fabric to pieces and revealed the bloodied wounds to their sight. “He said he didn’t need an hospital. That he was going to get just butterfly stitches.” He said as to excuse all of them, as he knew what she would have told him- that Eliot needed stitches, that he needed an hospital and not just hanging out with them hoping that her help would be enough.

Hissing between clenched teeth, she retrieved her first aid kit, and disinfected her hands with alcohol before cleaning the wound with saline solution, and delicately turn Eliot on his side to examine the other side and check as much as she could if there were any broken bones. “Good news, it went through. It’s a clean shot and it doesn’t look like it hit something. Bad news, whoever checked him out didn’t see there is some leftover fabric from the shirt, and we need to pull it out now if we don’t want him to go into septic shock.”

“Because it would be bad, right?” Hardison asked, despite her outraged and rightful furious expression, despite, deep down, knowing already the answer- _of course_ it would be bad, as people still died of septic shock.

“Here, I already opened it for you.” Parker gave her the metal box- a small metal case filled to the brim with all kind of vials, each and every one of them carefully labeled and coded. “What are all these vials? Drugs? The kind that makes you loopy?”

“What the… that’s what you keep in the fridge? Vials of… whatever you work on?”

She barked at Hardison with a stern gaze, rather annoyed, as she filled two syringes with the contents of two of the vials. “They are medical drugs, some neurotoxins, painkillers, relaxants, stimulants, tranquillizers, sleeping drugs… mostly it’s all natural stuff I like to thinker with, the stronger thing I have here is probably the morphine.”

“You keep drugs here. In our fridge. Next to my breakfast.” Hardison spelled the words as she injected the fluid into Eliot- one in the arm, the other right into the wound. “What did you just give him?”

“A mild sedative to make sure he’ll not come back and attack me while I’m suturing him, and a local anesthetic.” She checked her watch, waited for a couple of minutes for both injections to get fully into his system, and then she grabbed, before needle and thread, a pair of sterile tweezers, and cleaned the wound, hoping to get everything. “What did you exactly think The chemist kept in a locked metal case?”

“I don’t know. Living Lactic ferments, or probiotic enzymes…I don’t know! I just didn’t think that you keep the stuff we make people high with in our fridge!”

She rolled her eyes at the panic in Hardison’s voice, although deep down she knew it was his way of venting his frustration, and his worry about Eliot’s situation. “He’ll need antibiotics, too, just to make sure. Can you give me the Betadine?”

Despite her injection, Eliot still grunted, hissed between clenched teeth, and she could see written all over his features the pain he was in. As soon as she was finished stitching him back, and both wounds were clean, she took a small amount of morphine from a vial, and she administered it, and immediately she saw his features relax. She smiled, finally taking a breath of relief, and saw with the corner of one eye Hardison smirk.

“He should be good now. You guys need to sleep- I’ll stay around and check he doesn’t pull any stitches in his sleep.” She told them as she cleaned her hands, and, with a smile, they nodded. 

She spent the next few hours there, at his side, falling asleep on a chair between checks- of stitches, temperatures, anything. He finally looked calm, at peace- even younger than his years, and, as she tenderly cupped his cheek in the middle of the night, she couldn’t help but feel her heart constrict with worry and the realization that after all that time, and everything that had happened, he still held a special place in her heart.

“Hey, don’t cry,” she heard him whisper with a voice rougher than usual, raspy. “I hate making you worry, you know?”

She smiled, kind, sure that it was the morphine talking. She was checking his wound, at his right shoulder, when he lifted his left arm and caressed her cheek, moving out of the way a lock of hair. 

“You know, I’ve never noticed until now how beautiful you are… I could get lost for days in those eyes… and those lips… they look like two cherries to be savored….”

She chuckled. He was definitely high- Eliot would have never said anything like that to her. She kept minding her own business, when Eliot moved his hand south, to her lower back, and gently he pushed her towards himself, making her lose her balance. Becks found herself on top of him, and as she tried to get up, to free herself from his grip, Eliot grabbed her ass, bringing their bodies together, and he started kissing her, frantic, needy, as if his own life depended on that endless kiss... Lost in that fog of desire, Becks was no longer in control of her actions, and allowed Eliot to continue, savoring that kiss that she had dreamed of for years, which proved to be even better than her imagination...

Until Eliot's hand crept under her shirt, and he insistently groped her breasts through the thin sports bra, and lost in panic and surprise, Becks slapped him soundly before running away.

(The next day, when he wondered if Becks knew why his cheek was burning so hot, she found out bitterly that it was the morphine that had guided his actions - and that he couldn't remember anything about their hot encounter.)

_/\\_

“What are you thinking about?” She asked him, many years later, as they were driving to see his father- hoping to mend broken hearts and open wounds once and for all- before drive cross-country to San Francisco where his mother was expecting him, to celebrate, together with his half-siblings and his brother, her birthday.

He pulled at the side of the road his Dodge, resting his head against the seat, and pinched her nose before giving Becks a quick peck on the lips, feeling not just content, but at peace and carefree like he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He remembered what she looked like the first time he saw her- just like a nerdy teenager. She was still a nerd, still looked younger than her years, and yet, a decade later, she was the sexiest woman he had ever had the luck to hold in his arms- and now they were together, only because Sophie had insisted he went with her at a wedding.

And she was his- like the ring she wore on her left hand was evidence of. It was a pillow cut pink diamond on white gold from Tiffany, surrounded by two lined of diamonds- one white, one pink- that he had actually been able to _purchase_ thanks to all the good investments Hardison had suggested. 

“I think I just want to enjoy the view.” He answered her, unsure if he was talking about the landscapes they were driving through or her. “ Want to drive?”

She smiled. 

She didn’t need for him to repeat himself. After all, she had loved that car since the first moment she had laid eyes on it. 

Kind of like with him.


End file.
